


Broken (doll)house

by ADyingFlower



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Car Accidents, Dark Shiro (Voltron), Established Relationship, Graphic Description of Corpses, Kid Keith (Voltron), M/M, Necromancy, Plot Twists, Psychological Horror, Shiro really loves his family, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 19:40:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18505732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADyingFlower/pseuds/ADyingFlower
Summary: They’re dead. Even now, as Shiro stands in front of them, he can see the slight indent where Lance’s collarbones had folded inward and stabbed into his lungs. Keith’s neck is at a slightly wrong angle, not enough to tell unless you were looking for it. Lance’s mami wanted an open casket, so he figures the coroners are working on making them look presentable.They’re dead, but it doesn’t have to remain that way.





	Broken (doll)house

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, the story does jump straight into describing Lance and Keith corpses and deaths, and while I didn't think it was particularly gory, Keith /is/ a child, so if that triggers anyone, I'm sorry. 
> 
> I have so short horror fics for Voltron I never posted, but I liked this one a lot so I figured I would give it a try, at least.
> 
> Can you tell I love yandere Shiro? It's been mostly yandere Keith and Lance lately, so it was fun to shake it up

Before…before those precious honey sweet mornings and evenings spent giggling at the night sky, Shiro ran with some of the wrong sort of crowds. The sort of crowds that whispered things, breaths echoing against the damp and gritty cement. Little tales, what some would call folklores if they didn't solely exist in the belly of the city. 

Magic wasn’t real, this was only a poor imitation of it, but he doesn’t care.

Now, standing in front of the coroners office, missing one arm and a new scar across the bridge of his nose, Shiro can only breathe through his panic and strangle  the ugly swarm of emotions down.

Allura holds his shoulder, looking at him with such blue eyes that he can’t bring himself to look at her. Not when she’s too much like two certain others, both of their sweetness and fierceness wrapped together that makes his stomach ache everytime he even gets a glance of her.

“I can come in with you, if you would like?” She offers tentatively, but he’s already shaking his head.

“No.” Swallowing, he pushes her hand off of his shoulder. “No, I need to do this alone.”

She looks unsure, but that’s fine with him.

He doesn’t care.

 

 

The coroner speaks with him, words he can’t hear, but he nods along, unable to tear his eyes away from the cold corpses, everything up to their necks covered in a thin plastic sheet.

Eventually, she promises to give him a moment alone, retreating away and leaving him alone with the remains of his family.

Lance. Keith.

His lovely husband, who nagged Shiro every morning to eat breakfast and would spin Keith around in circles to the polka music they could hear playing down the street every Saturday night without fail. Lance, who would drag Shiro into dancing to the music on the radio in the early mornings when the rest of the world was asleep, who would take over all of the counter space with his lotions if Shiro let him, who liked to hum as he cleaned and met Shiro by accident when trying to get away from a creepy ex as a teenager and preferred the blue flavor slushie from the convenience store. Three years of dating, four years of marriage. Their anniversary was only a little over seven months ago - they celebrated with a weekend at the beach, leaving Keith in the care of Hunk and Pidge.

His little boy, oh his baby boy who they adopted as a sullen toddler after his birth father's unfortunate death in the line of duty. Who liked race cars and the color red and going to the playground down the street. Who laughed hysterically when Shiro would swing him by his arms down the sidewalk and smiled so proudly whenever he ‘won’ in roughhousing, who wanted a dog but Shiro always said no because his work was always too busy. Keith who crawled in bed with them when he had nightmares despite trying to pretend nothing of that sort happened, who liked Disney but adored Dreamworks and would always try to run off to the toy aisle when they went to the grocery store so Lance and him would always have to hold his hands at all time. Who was supposed to be going to kindergarten next year.

Lance, who begged him through a mouthful of blood to help Keith even with his ribs crushed from under the dashboard, reaching out for his trapped arm desperately. Keith, who was dead on impact, eyes glazed when his brain smashed against his skull and delicate spine snapped from the force of their car being plowed into by a drunk driver and flipping over the interstate.

Shiro, who lived with only an arm being taken away from him, his husband dead before the EMTs arrived and his child only being covered by a thin cloth on the blood stained cement after they had to cut him out of his car seat.

They’re dead. Even now, as Shiro stands in front of them, he can see the slight indent where Lance’s collarbones had folded inward and stabbed into his lungs. Keith’s neck is at a slightly wrong angle, not enough to tell unless you were looking for it. Lance’s mami wanted an open casket, so he figures the coroners are working on making them look presentable.

They’re dead, but it doesn’t have to remain that way.

Glancing at the busy coroner, he silently unzips his jacket’s pocket.

_The spells only requires a handful of things…_

Carefully, he tilts Lance’s head to the side, deciding on a strand behind his ear. Long, and hidden enough it won’t be noticeable at the funeral. The scissors glide easily still despite Lance’s skin being as cold as ice and smelling overpoweringly of formaldehyde, the short lock falling easily in the ziplock bag.

Keith is even easier, his fear of scissors leaving him with a head of hair that brushes his shoulders. Shiro shudders at the unnerving stillness of his baby, looking so small and quiet on the table. He gags at the realization that both of this loves are naked and vulnerable under these paper thin sheets. For a brief moment, he wants to knock the coroner out and take them away, give them a small burial far away from where others could ever see them.

But only for a brief moment.

Giving them one last glance, he pulls the sheets back over them.

They’re just corpses now, and he has what he came for.

 

 

_The hair is important, but you also need an item of great value. Something with a lot of emotional value to the deceased, where it had the ability to soak in a lot of their energy._

_Will a stuffed animal work… And a wedding ring?_

_It could be a damn sex toy, as long as they cherished it._

Shiro spent over six months saving up for the ring, only to have it returned to him in a bloody evidence bag. Even now, he can still imagine Lance’s delighted expression the day he got onto his knee and proposed to the person he knew was the love of his life from their very first meeting. The warmth of his then boyfriend’s lips as he cried ‘ _yes_ ’ against his mouth. It might be a little arrogant of him to assume that it was Lance’s most treasured item, but Lance really did love it so.

_Take the fucking ring, I don’t care! Just, go. Go Takashi, I don’t want to see your face around either of us until you fix things._

The other item placed in the chalk circle is the teddy bear Lance had bought Keith the day they adopted him, well worn and well loved. Keith slept with it every night and brought it with him everywhere, despite it missing an eye and the purple bow that used to be around its neck. One of its legs had been torn off recently, a faint row of stitching that must have taken Lance all night to sew, and the only reason the teddy bear wasn't with them in the car. 

_Shh, Keith, it’s okay. Daddy didn’t mean it, he’s very sorry for hurting Strawberry. I’ll fix it, okay? She’ll be good as new in no time._

Shiro spent the last two days moving back into his house, sneaking his belongings back into the old wooden home deep in the suburbs from his current apartment near his job. He never liked it there, always quiet, oh so quiet. He would spend nights clawing at his face, dragging his nails until he bled, so it’s a relief to be back home. Even if it’s still too quiet, it at least smells like them, the coolness of Lance’s lotions and Keith’s soft baby smell.

If he lies down, he can almost pretend that the creaks of the pipes are their steps on the rickety stairs, their cold hands crying at him  _I'm scared - !_

He ignores the calls from his friends and family, even his work. He doesn’t care about them - the mortgage is paid off, and both Lance and Keith had a hefty life insurance policy on them, enough to pay the bills for the next decade.

And soon, he’ll have what he needs.

 

 

_Now, there’s a couple of drawbacks to this…ritual._

_Like what?_

Pidge arrives on his doorstep two days before the full moon. Shiro knows he looks like shit, and it’s suspicious as hell that he didn’t come to the funeral, but he couldn’t bare the thought of seeing them so lifeless. Not again, not so close to the date. 

She knocks and rings the doorbell for almost an hour before Shiro musters the courage to answer it, only cracking open the door a couple inches with the chain tightly secured.

Matt’s sister glares at him fiercely, none of Lance’s softness, so it’s easier to match her sour look with one of his own, like Keith pulling a tantrum over having to take a bath.

“Lance told me, about what you did.” She starts out, and Shiro freezes. “The day before the crash. I threatened it out of him, but some more things aren’t adding up. What. Did. You. Do?”

_Takashi please stop, Takashi, stop! STOP -_

Narrowing his eyes, Shiro replies with a scalding “Nothing,” before slamming the door shut and locking it.

Pidge knocks again, but this time, he ignores her until she goes away, letting the happy memory of Lance teaching Keith hopscotch in their driveway with dollar store chalk wash him away until night comes.

 

 

Lance and him were a normal couple.

Sure, they had their fights, but there was no reason for Lance’s friends to detest him so, to show up at his doorstep and demand answers for things he didn’t do. It’s enough to make him move, if he could. Unfortunately, the spell requires the saturated energy of all of them, so it’s not likely he’ll be moving anytime in the future, if ever. 

Lance always hated this house; it was Shiro who loved it so. Lance wanted to be closer in the city, to his friends and the school. They compromised, with Shiro promising to paint the house a bright blue.

But then work picked up, and the cans of paint sat in the garage, collecting dust, for five years.

_I’m sorry, baby, it’s just -_

_Go. I’m going to bed, I’m tired. See you later, I guess._

_Lance -_

This time, things will be different between them, starting with the color of the house.

 

 

_You’ll need a set of clothing, unwashed. Make it something comfortable and warm, they’re always cold for the first couple of days._

White and blue baseball t-shirt. Lance’s pair of lucky jeans. The army jacket he’s had since high school. Fuzzy socks. No shoes.

Black shirt. Bright red racing jacket. Grey sweatpants with Keith’s favorite show’s insignia on its side. Brightly patterned socks. No shoes.

Setting them out in the chalk circle - drawn with the same chalk Lance had bought at the dollar store with a bright smile on his face as Keith bounced in the carriage - Shiro stands back to take everything in.

_What are you doing? Takashi - !_

Finally, the night of the full moon is here.

Finally, he’ll have his family back.

 

 

Shiro mutters the incantation under his breath as he paces around the chalk circle, inscribed with protection and love and _family_. The candles in the living room flicker, but Shiro simply closes his eyes as he continues to chant. Nothing will scare him away from this path, no matter how dark he must stray.

He’s almost home.

And as the last of the words leave him, he nearly breaks into sobs at the sounds of familiar coughing from within the circle.

It worked. It _worked_.

Opening his eyes, Shiro falls to his knees at the sight before him. Of his Keith, his tiny baby boy back, once again vivacious and bright as he hacks into his knees, hugging Strawberry tightly to his chest. Of his Lance, his lovely beautiful Lance, who’s trying to comfort his son while coughing into his hands, the wedding ring gleaming in the candlelight.

Then Lance looks up at him, and the color drains out of his face.

“Takashi,” he manages to wheeze out as the last of his coughs pepper out of him. Beside him, Keith freezes, his glance flicking up to Shiro before he hurriedly adverts his eyes. “Takashi, _what did you do_?”

“I brought you back!” Shiro laughs, half delirious with happiness. “I brought the two of you back!”

He tries to crawl over to them, but stops in his tracks as Lance drags Keith into his side protectively, scooting both of them back away from Shiro.

“Go away!” Keith cries, looking torn between hiding behind his papi for protection or trying _to_ protect Lance. “Daddy, go away!”

Shiro draws back, his heart burning in his chest. “Wha - what’s wrong?”

Lance barks out a sharp laugh. “What’s wrong? _What’s wrong_? You _killed_ us!”

_“Takashi, let us out.” Lance demanded, yanking on the door handle. “What are you doing? Takashi -!”_

_Shiro pressed his foot down firmer on the gas pedal, watching the speedometer tick up. 30, 40, 50, 60…_

_“Stop!” Lance screamed, looking up at him with those pretty, tears-stained blue eyes, just like the night they met all over again._

_“Daddy, Papi, I’m scared…” Keith whined from the backseat, anxiously holding onto the sides of the car seat._

_“Don’t worry, kiddo.” Shiro laughed, eyes manic as he kept speeding down the highway. 70, 80, 90… “Daddy and Papi won’t be getting a divorce after all! The three of us are going to stay together forever, okay? Just close your eyes.”_

_Keith obeyed him, innocently oblivious to their fates as they swerved down the dark roads. Lance grabbed at his arm, trying to force him to slow down. It’s cruel of him, but he couldn’t help but enjoy these last few moments, hoping that Lance feels even an ounce of the pain he felt these past few months alone, without his husband and son and forced to watch the court date come ticking ever closer._

_“Takashi please stop, Takashi, stop! STOP -”_

_When the truck hit their car, and they flipped across the highway, turning over and over and over, when Keith went silent and Lance started choking, Shiro could only feel satisfaction that they would finally be together again in the afterlife._

_The only mistake Shiro made that day was not dying with them._

“It hurt,” Keith whimpers, and Shiro’s heart breaks a little bit.

“Daddy didn’t want you to hurt, okay? He wanted it to be quick, and it was!” Shiro tries to reassure frantically, crawling forward despite his family’s hurried backing away.

“And me?” Lance challenges, raising his chin with fury in his eyes, despite the solid undercurrent of fear underneath it. “You _laughed_ as I struggled to breathe, as I died right next to you pleading for you to help Keith. Did you want me to hurt?”

Shiro doesn’t bother with lying. Lance’s expression turns horrified, and he frantically scrambles to his feet, easily swinging Keith into his arms and keeping his eyes on Shiro as he backpedals away from him.

Following their example, he climbs to his feet, but doesn’t follow after them, contending himself with just watching them try to flee towards the front door.

“That won’t work,” he tells them, leaning against them the far wall with his arms crossed.

Of course, his lovely Lance tries so hard anyhow, scrambling for any kind of grip he can get on the doorknob, but his hand is shocked backwards each time. Even Keith tries, whining as his hand is stung when he reaches out.

_Now, there’s a couple of drawbacks to this…ritual._

_Like what?_

_For one, they’ll never be able to leave their residence again._

“You’re not human anymore.” Shiro announces, straightening up to once again approach them, taking sick pleasure in both of their frightened expressions. “The spell only give you a physical form by binding you to the house’s grounds where you have an emotional connection. I know how much the two of you love the backyard though, I even kept up your vegetable garden while you were gone dear, so you’re still able to play outside, not to worry.”

Stopping in front of them, Shiro cups Lance’s chin, forcing those watery blue eyes to stare directly into his.

Beautiful.

“You two can’t leave me again.” Shiro marvels, simply allowing himself to drink in their features. He tries to reach out to hold Keith in his arms, longing desperately to feel his baby chubbiness and smooth skin once more, but both of them resist so much he gives up easily.

They can’t leave the house - they can’t leave _him_. They’ll have plenty of time to get used to him again, the three of them never ageing as long as this house stands strong.

He’ll do whatever it takes to fix their relationship, he already quit his job Lance hated him so much for working overtime constantly at, he got rid all of their friends so they’ll have no reason to be jealous. Shiro will buy that dog Keith wanted so much, he’ll finish painting the house blue. He’ll renovate it from top to bottom with the life insurance money Shiro convinced Lance to invest in when they first started dating, after their first big fight where Shiro had to stop himself from pushing Lance out the sixth floor window, and then once again after Shiro held Keith in his arms for the first time and realized he didn't ever want to be without them.

“I love you.” He whispers, pressing his forehead to Lance’s. His darling husband shakes beneath him, looking so terrified that Shiro aches to both punish him longer and to comfort him.

Lance doesn’t say anything back, only holding Keith close as their son begins to weep into Lance’s jacket. They’ll be wearing those outfits for the next several days until Shiro can muster up enough energy to tie some more clothing into the house’s roots. Luckily, most of the furniture was saturated enough that he didn’t have to tie it down, but furniture and two undead spirits are completely different things.

Sooner or later, they’ll forgive him, just as he’s forgiven them for leaving him and for placing a goddamn restraining order on him the day before the crash. It was _his_ house, and he didn’t deserve to be dragged out in goddamn cuffs for coming in through the window because his _husband_ fucking changed the locks on him after kicking him out. And then! Then Lance had to accuse him of stalking them in front of those police officers and threatened to press charges! Threatened to send his husband for jail for simply wanting to be with them. 

Really, he had only left a handful of voicemails when Lance refused to pick up, and sure, maybe he liked to follow Lance to work to make sure he got there safely now that he could no longer drive him there, liked to send him texts every few minutes despite the lack of replies because Lance no longer messaged him back during his breaks like he was supposed to, ranging from compliments to threats to pleas, liked to wait outside of Keith’s daycare trying to get a glimpse of him playing outside and tried more than once to get in contact with his baby, because he just wanted to hold his son and have his husband curled up next to him.

Shiro wasn’t stalking them - he loved them.

They were his family.

Smiling, Shiro smacks a brief kiss to Lance’s slack mouth, wiping away the tear tracks gently with his prosthetic fingers. He smooths his other hand over Keith’s messy hair, lovingly scratching his nails through those ever tangled locks as Keith burrows his face into Lance's chest with a sad wail.

Looking between the two of them, for the first time in months, Shiro feels content.

“Welcome home.”

 

 


End file.
